A Barney in Bali--Day 11, 18JUNE2011 SAT

Sunrise over Tugu

Tugu Round 2:

    It’s 0511, and I notice the light on outside my room. Randy’s up. As I flick the bathroom light on, my body’s telling me something. Despite seven hours of solid sleep, I’m still tired. My back muscles are aching; I’m surf worn. I brush my teeth, do my warm ups, and join Randy for tea. We converse about memories of our grandfather, and how the sound of tea being stirred in the early morning, while everyone’s a sleep, brings back memories of him.

    We discuss yesterday’s fortunes and how that will play out today. We aim for a short session at Canggu, and then another gamble on SS #1 if the winds are right.

    In the darkness, we hit the road. Over the past 10 days I’ve gotten quite comfortable on the back of the bike. I’m not tensing or clenching as much and actually enjoy the straightaways where we’re at full speed with the wind against us.

    Yesterday’s swell forecast was actually thirteen feet, and today it goes down just a little. The past couple mornings have been low tide mornings, and Canggu doesn’t do well on a low tide. The only break working is the sand bar, but the inside looks really washy. We can see the north end of Tugu which has a left that is holding shape pretty well. We adjust fire and change locations.

    Randy chooses to surf the inside again, so I start my long paddle out to the line up. I pass up clean right handers that peel away towards the inside. The waves on the outside break and reform, which turn into the waves that my brother rides. It takes a while and a series of duckdives, but I make it. Yesterday morning I surfed a different peak to my south. This morning is less crowded with mostly novices at my level or a little lower.

    The size is down just a hair, but the shape looks cleaner. I take my first left which closes out after a couple pumps. My second wave doesn’t let me down. It’s head high. The peak is lined and walled for the right, but there’s a well defined left hand shoulder at the end of it; I’m in perfect position for it. It’s a steep drop, but I start pumping my board at mid face to keep up with the wave. The section in front of me starts to close. I draw another high line just under the feathering lip, rebound, and move down the line as fast as I have so far on this trip. Two guys are on the shoulder seeing if I make the section. I do, so they back off. I’m so stoked. I’m on a wave that will potentially take me all the way to the channel, the longest ride ever awaits me. I set up to move down the face and into the pocket for a bottom turn, when I see some fucking guy paddling out, right in my fucking path. I’m moving so fast, and I really need to get in the pocket because I want to set up for a bottom turn. I have no choice but to jump off my board. The breaking section that I successfully passed, now consumes me as I go down in a roar of whitewash. I resurface, and the guy’s behind me; he ditched his board.

    He says something, some kind of apology that I can’t hear over the overwhelming fizz of foam.

    “Are you all right?” I ask.

    He nods his head as if to say yes. He’s not getting on his board. I wait until he’s on it and returns a thumbs up.

    Back at the line up, I know I won’t get another one like that. That wave was worth more than one session, it would’ve made up for all my foibles that I’ve had thus far on this trip. But it did feel good going front side on a big wave, pumping, racing, and choosing good lines to make it out to the shoulder. I killed the aggro attitude and approached the guy in kindness; I know he didn’t mean it. How many times have you been paddling out to see some guy drawing a straight line to your ass? The paddling dance begins. I paddle for some smaller waves, scratch out, turn around, and rogue waves are way on the outside. I paddle back out to beat them, miss them completely, and the water goes flat into lulls. I catch another left, but incomparable to the previous.

Hard to tell, but there's rain.

     My session’s just over an hour, so I catch a shoulder high right back to shore. That epic ride, cut short, haunts me. There’s a patch of dark clouds, it‘s drizzling, and a rainbow appears over the ocean as my brother catches his last wave.

    We ride home, do some grocery shopping at Bali’s version of K Mart, and do take-out from a Javanese restaurant. I feel nervous ordering. I look for anything that I can identify; I recognize nothing. I point, point, and point, until the leaf wrapped dish is full. It’s heavy, costs me three dollars, and tastes delicious.

Javanese food, $3.

    Unfortunately, the wind isn’t dead like yesterday, and the tide’s low again just before sunset. Tomorrow will be the next session.

A Barney in Bali--Day 10, 17JUNE2011 FRI

Sunrise on the Canggu Stretch

Getting What You Ask for Doesn’t Always Work Out:

    Last night there was more surf mentoring over dinner, but Randy told me the things that I’ve already been epiphanizing the last couple days: I suck.

    Now that it’s a new day I’d like to think that my pussy doesn’t hurt as much. It’s 0500 and Randy’s not up yet. I take my time warming up, and when I’m done he’s in mid routine.

    “Damn, I woke up late,” he says.

    He starts the morning tea as we read the wind, swell, and tide forecasts. The swell is up today. In fact . . . the swell forecasts are incredible compared to back home. The numbers during the week are anywhere between eight and thirteen feet. Next week is supposed to be eighteen feet. I’m such an idiot that the common practice of downplaying wave size has me confused too, so I just follow the “Bali Scale.” It’s three to four feet. I suppose when I’m involuntarily shitting my pants, it will be safe to call it six feet, but what are the actual wave heights? I hate exaggerating, so I’ll play the game. 

    After losing the Sanur gamble yesterday, the options are Canggu or Tugu. Randy says that Tugu is more of a gradual wave. He gives me this option because of today’s swell. Basically, Canggu may be too big for me to handle. Being tired of surfing the same spot, I suggest Tugu.

    As we arrive, we first look at The Gu. It’s big enough to clear The Burger; it’s closing out and not holding shape, while he river mouth still holds. The sand bar works, but it’s fast.

    “Okay,” says Randy. “This is the deal. If we surf here, it’s gonna have to be the river mouth. Sand Bar may be a little too difficult for you.”

    I watch Rivers and note the crowd there. The inside looks a little brutal. My concern is eating shit, which is a guarantee for me, and then being in the way of a dozen Aussies pumping down the line. It’s consistent, big, and crowded, which is not appealing. I decide on Tugu for my sake.

    We pull up and see the two different peaks which gives the option of rights and lefts, but the paddle is way out there. The wave is big, but slopey and gradual. It’s more of a long boarder spot, and the energy here is different. More chicks are surfing here and more older guys.

    “Is this even challenging for you?” says Randy.

    “Well, I just want to surf something different and surf some fun waves.”

    “All right, as long as you’re having fun, that’s all that matters.”

    His board isn’t made for the mooshy waves, so he says he’ll surf the inside. I tell him to just surf the river mouth, but he wants to be close by.

    The paddle out takes a long time. The set waves break far on the outside, but duckdiving white wash from mooshy waves is a cinch. For the first time since being here, I feel comfortable in the impact zone.

    When I get to the line up I try to figure out where to sit. I try to triangulate and see if I’m too far in or out. It’s hard to gauge because people are sitting everywhere. I catch a small left, pop up late, and kick out before it closes out--not a good wave choice. Now the sets arrive in the distance. I’m too far on the inside, so I have to paddle and beat it. I catch what looks like a good right, but the wave is really boggy. I’m on the wave, but there’s no power on it. I’m right where the power should be, but I’m moving with the ferocity of a shopping cart being pushed by an elderly woman at the grocery store.

    I’m out there for two hours, so I’ll sum up the mediocre session with the memories that stand out. The chick that was charging The Burg a couple days ago is out there. We talk a little about Canggu being closed out. There are local surf instructors in the water trying to push some tourists into waves; it’s not working. The water’s so glassy, which is odd for the mid morning. The sets start to get bigger and break further outside. Everyone scrambles to beat them, and the long boarders have the best advantage by catching them early.

    My best wave of the session is a left. It’s the left I’ve been waiting all morning for, one I can catch all the way to the channel where Randy is. I get it right at the peak, have a fast drop, bottom turn, draw a high line, and there’s a fucking, tattooed, long haired, Balinese guy that drops in on my. I’m just about to set myself up for some momentum off of the lip. I let out a “Whoaaaaa!” and have no choice but to do a self induced wipeout. I resurface, and he’s right there. No apologies, this is their turf.

    I catch a clean right hander, but an Aussie paddled into it behind the peak, makes the section, and is right behind me. I’m forced to kick out. I eat shit on another wave. On my paddle back, the waves are getting even bigger, and breaking even farther out than before. Everyone is stretched out. A couple chicks paddling next to me are struggling more than I am, which (I hate to say it) gives me some relief for my own abilities. I’m getting tired, and my duckdives aren’t as clean, I’m getting washed around a little.

    I still don’t have an epic wave to claim for myself, but it is nice to surf without getting my ass kicked. I’m in position for an outside set, and the Balinese surf instructor actually pushes his student into a wave; it’s mooshy, but, easily head high. It was a hell of a wave to catch for a first surf lesson; there’s no way he can’t be sold. I’m in position again, and another instructor pushes a female student into the wave. She’s slow at getting up, shaky, but she stands, and it’s a very, very long ride to the channel.

    I’m bordering on my second hour, and I want to get back to the bike. I scratch out on a lot of waves. Yes, it’s an easy session, but my brother is right. It’s too easy. Or I should say, so mooshy that it’s hard to paddle into--big and mooshy. I catch another right that’s a bogger. It mooshes out towards the inside, and I paddle the rest of the way in.

    I see Randy in the distance. He’s dry, his board is packed, and he starts up the bike. He’s probably been there for a while.

    “How long have you been here?” I ask.

    “Oh . . . forty-five minutes. Did you have fun?”

    “Oh, it was all right.”

    I feel guilty. I know he would’ve had more fun at Rivers, but . . . I wouldn’t have caught anything with the crowd there. I think it was still good to clear my mind and surf in a calmer atmosphere. Now I’ll look forward to more of a challenge after this morning.

    “The wind just turned on shore,” he says.

    I don’t comprehend at first. “Ohhhhh, so now it’s offshore on the other side.”

View from the Tugu line-up

To Be Continued:

A Barney in Bali--Day 6 (double sesh), 13JUNE2011 MON

Delicious mangostine! Not sure if I'm spelling this right.

Bean cakes, so yummy!

    
    
     After the morning session, we cruise around town and head back to the market. I notice that Pepperidge Farm cookies are around a whopping eight dollars. Randy explains that things imported are going to cost a lot more.

     We head back, eat Christina’s cooking, and power nap until about 1330. The wind has gotten stronger, and the verdict is that Canggu is no doubt going to be blown out. We make the call to head to Dhyana Pura at mid tide and just stay local. When we get there it’s completely shut down. The tide’s still too low, the swell from the morning is gone, and there’s no shape. I suggest we call it a day if we know Canggu’s gonna be the same, but Randy says that he wants to show me a spot near it called Tugu. Tugu is known for being more of a slopey long board wave, easy, and good to practice turns on. He says it’s more protected from the wind. It’s a hell of a decision to make. The sun’s already low and traffic’s a bitch.

Bad camera shot.

     On the way there, I witness the thickest traffic I’ve seen so far since being here. An intersection is an ocean of motor bikes around vehicles that are bumper to bumper. I hold my breath when we cut right through it.

     “It gets worse than this,” says Randy.

Tugu

     Tugu has a lot of wind on it, mostly side shore from the south. I see what he’s talking about. It’s a long ass paddle out, but there is a left that’s consistent, but it’s barely three feet.



     A Balinese chick appears out of no where wearing a tight green dress, holding a bottle of wine, two wine glasses, and wanders the shoreline as if she’s looking for someone. It’s an odd sight that we did not expect. The next break over is The Gu again, so we go there.

     The Sand Bar seems to be working, but there are about six heads on it. It’s small and choppy, but we figure that we just want to paddle out and get wet anyway, so it doesn’t matter. On the way out, Randy catches a wave on the inside. I continue and sit outside the main peak. I catch my first right which actually produces an open shoulder, but I lose balance on my top turn and fall. The break in front of the resort is giving the cleanest lefts, but it’s a locals only spot this evening, as six gangly looking dudes are trading off. I want to share the peak at the Sand Bar, but I continue to get some random rights, none as good as the first wave. The right seems just a little hollow but closes out fast. Randy works the inside the whole session getting both lefts and rights. It’s amazing what you can do with a strong paddle. I insert myself into the lineup but fail to get any of their waves. One of the Aussies is tearing it up with a single fin.



     The sun’s already down, and it’s hard to make out shapes in the surface. We catch our last waves in. It turns dark, the moon’s bright, and we realize we forgot to bring clear glasses. We ride away through screens of bugs. One gets in my left eye and remains a nuisance the whole way home. When we arrive, there’s a power outage, and we eat in the dark, talking about surfing.

     I’m given words of encouragement to push myself harder and try new things in the water now that I have Bali at my fingertips. I hope I don’t let myself down.